is this a natural feeling or is it just me bleeding?
He wasn't sure how he would manage meeting a whale, even if the large creature did happen to be swimming around the bridge -- how he would gain the attention of one up close and personal -- but he figured he would sort that much out when he got to that point. When he knew that there was one to meet at all. Until then, he was winging it, and he knew it. Still, wasn't it better to have something in mind other than trying to figure out why berries were pulsing to a heartbeat and ivy climbed far too high into the sky, unable to be breached?
It had a defensive Bheo vibe to it that Lasairian had no interest in messing with. There was a subtle curiosity as to get close enough to look at it all, but he wasn't about to go touching at it or trying to kick his way through it, either. When you've seen flowing vines strangling someone in the past, you tended to afford them more respect later on. At this point, there was no way to be sure that this wasn't in the same type of situation as that, and Lasairian wasn't willing to test it too far. Being curious was one thing, being quite possibly suicidal was another, and Lasairian wasn't interested in dying.
It's early, maybe too early for such things as this, but he wanted to get here before too much of a crowd stirred again. The onlookers and explorers that tended to try to pick these places apart, pick them clean. If there are whales close by, then now is the best time to go looking. That was why he was stepping across the lava made bridge now, shivering lightly at the salted spray from the water on both sides of it. There is plenty of life out there in the waves, but most of them look foreboding with spines and such sticking out of the water. Nothing he feels he wants to meet face to face or on a swim.
Things that might eat a gentle giant of a whale rather than let it float on by. Lasairian felt disappointed in this, but he keeps going on and on across the bridge, hooves scraping at the shells and other strange things littered across it. The closer he gets to the ivy and berries, the more of the crowd he can see. Well, at least he had tried to get here decently early and ahead of the rush, though something wary in those forms up ahead told a tale of waiting for hours. They had probably been lingering here a long time, and that was more than Lasairian was willing to offer the bridge, the ivy, and it's berries.
He takes a breath and pushes on into the fray, eyeing a spotted equine that looked about to try his luck with the ivy. So far it hasn't taken anyone, else there would be an outcry on it if any noticed others vanishing through it, but there was still a risk. How much did any of them really know about this stuff? Vaguely, Lasairian wonders if anyone had attempted real violence at the ivy or the berries, and if anything at all had happened when they did. Even if it hadn't yet happened, eventually it would. Someone would get stir-crazy over the waiting for the unknown, and then what? Only time would tell.
Lasairian pauses in step as he watches the other turn from the wall and begin the way back, away from all that ivy, and it jolts through him that there's nothing to see here, and he hadn't intended to come this far as it was. He shakes himself from it, as if to rid himself of the invisible thread pulling him closer, and when the spotted equine passes close, Lasairian turns with him, falling into step to go back, "has anyone tried to rip through the ivy yet?" he asks, meaning it exactly how he says it; not push through, but something more violent from a mind that snapped during the waiting.
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